Page 75 of Hunter

“Yeah. Immediately. He was really gentle after. But I still made him go. I couldn’t… I couldn’t even look at him.”

She nods, understanding without needing all the pieces. She’s been here for every ugly chapter of my trauma. She knows.

“And you haven’t heard from him since?”

I shake my head. “I texted him an apology this morning. No reply.”

Lucy is quiet for a moment, then gives my hand another squeeze.

“He might be processing, too. Some guys don’t know what to do when they trigger someone they care about. Especially if they’re carrying their own heavy shit.” She tilts her head. “But if he ghosts you after that…then he wasn’t ready for you anyway. You deserve someone who can handle the hard parts, not just the fun ones.”

I nod, but my chest still feels hollow.

“I really liked him, Luce. Like…stupidly liked him. It felt different.”

“I know, babe.” She gives me a small, sad smile. “And maybe it still can be. But right now, you focus on you. Eat your noodles. Cry if you need to. And if he doesn’t text back…we’ll eat ice cream and talk shit about him until 2 a.m.. Bestie rules.”

I let out a watery laugh and squeeze her hand back.

“Thank you.”

“Always.”

The food comes, and I manage to eat most of it. Lucy carries the conversation, filling the space with funny stories so I don’t have to. I laugh when I’m supposed to. I smile when I can.

But every time my phone stays silent in my pocket, the ache gets a little deeper.

I really thought Hunter might be different.

Now I’m not sure if I’ll ever hear from him again.

Chapter 30

Hunter

The bottle is half-empty before I even realize I opened it.

I told myself I wouldn’t. That I was better than this now. But I know it’s a lie. A few weeks of being sober doesn’t make me better. It was Charlie that made me better. He kept the guilt at bay and made it feel like the sun was shining.

After I got back to my apartment, the silence that followed me around the space was deafening. And Robby’s voice wouldn’t shut up. So I went out and bought a few bottles to drown him out. Like I did before Charlie.

Now, I’m drunk. Really fucking drunk. The kind where the room tilts and I’m positive I don’t even know what a straight line is. It’s perfect.

I sit on the edge of the couch, staring at the half-empty bottle in my hand like it might give me answers. My phone is on the coffee table, screen dark. No new messages from Charlie. Not since that single apology text this morning that I still haven’t answered.

Charlie: I’m really sorry about last night. I thought I could handle it, and I panicked. You didn’t do anything wrong. I’m sorry I ruined it.

The words gut me every time I read them. I should have answered. I should have told him it wasn’t his fault. That I pushed too hard. That I’m the one who’s broken, not him.

Instead, I drank.

Robby’s voice is louder tonight, slurred and cruel, mixing with the alcohol in my blood.

Look at you. Back to this. One bad night and you’re right back where you belong. You really thought that soft little twink was gonna save you? He’s probably already moved on. Found someone who doesn’t pin him down and make him cry.

I take another long pull from the bottle, the burn barely registering anymore.

He’s probably right.